Tell Me Why
by obsessedwithstabler
Summary: “Daddy, were there people in that building?” he whispered, and Elliot felt himself break out in a cold sweat as he tried to force an answer to his son’s question from his trembling lips.


Ha, can ya'll believe this? This is my 50th story on this site. Dang. Well, I wanted it to mean something, really mean something, and I realized I had never done a story like this, cause I always thought it was too soon. It occurs on September 11th, 2001, and is set in an alternate universe, as you will see. I heard this song a few weeks back, and I just had to write this. So here it is, my 50th story, called Tell Me Why. The song is Tell Me Why, by Will Smith and Mary J. Blige. Enjoy.

Disclaimer: I don't own anything associated with SVU, or Will Smith.

This story is for the victims and survivors of that tragic day.

"El, baby, wake up," he heard his wife call, but he groaned and pulled the blankets over his head, snuggling back down into the warm bed. Suddenly the blankets were jerked away, and he groaned again as she said, "Elliot Matthew Stabler, if you don't get up, I will be forced to use my secret weapon on you."

He buried his face in the pillow and waved her away, and she sighed impatiently and crossed her arms over her chest, calling, "Kids, come help me wake Daddy up!" He heard the door swing open, and she smiled in smug satisfaction as their kids jumped onto the bed.

"Oof!" Elliot grunted as one squealing bundle jumped onto the middle of his back. "Good luck, baby," Olivia called sweetly as she sashayed into the bathroom to get ready for work.

An hour later, after kissing Olivia goodbye, dressing their children and fixing them breakfast, Elliot ushered them into the living room, then began fixing himself breakfast. He could hear them arguing over something, and he smiled.

"Play nice, you two," he called, and from the living room he heard a chorus of, "Yes, Daddy." Chuckling to himself, he grabbed the remote and turned the T.V. on to a news channel.

Suddenly the screen went gray with smoke, and he could hear the newscaster shouting something about bombs, airplanes, and the world trade center. Almost robotically, Elliot abandoned his French toast and walked into the living room, where his children were staring at the T.V. The smoke cleared, and the camera focused on the flaming building that was the world trade center.

Despite the distance from the scene, Elliot could see the people leaping down from the windows of the trembling building, and he cringed as vomit rose in his throat. His son, who was sitting on the floor in front of the T.V., turned around and looked up at Elliot with wide, terror filled eyes.

"Daddy, were there people in that building?" he whispered, and Elliot felt himself break out in a cold sweat as he tried to force an answer to his son's question from his trembling lips.

_Why? Why?_

_Why? Why?_

_Why? I really wish I could explain it, baby _

_Why? It's just the world is kinda crazy, baby _

_Why? Ain't no pretty way to paint it, baby _

_Why? Don't cry, dry your eyes_

_September 11th, I woke up about 7a.m. _

_East coast time, French toast and my turkey bacon _

_Taking my time awakin', turning my TV on _

_To my surprise, saw what everybody in the world saw _

_Me and my children, images were chillin'_

_My son said, "Daddy were there people in that building?"_

_A cold sweat, frozen with a lump in my chest _

_I heard his question, couldn't bring my lips to say "Yes" to him_

Finally he nodded a little, and the look that appeared on his son's face made his heart break. Crossing the floor, he gathered both of his children into his arms and held them close, kissing their hair. Suddenly his heart did a little flip, and he released his children and grabbed the phone off of the charger, dialing with trembling fingers.

"Come on, pick up!" he begged as it rang once, twice. Finally, on the third ring, he heard, "Hi, you've reached Olivia Stabler. Sorry that I missed your call-" He growled in frustration and fear as he stabbed the off button, then dialed their boss's number. On the second ring, a breathless voice answered.

_Cragen._

"Where is she, Cap?" Elliot demanded, his voice on the edge of breaking. "I saw the news, and she's not picking up her phone. Please tell me she's there."

_Relax, Elliot. She's right here. Hold on, and I'll get her._

He sighed in relief and waited until her voice came on the other end of the line.

_El?_

"Liv? Are you okay?" he demanded softly, cursing himself for choosing today of all days to not go in to work.

_I'm fine, El. What about you? Are you and the kids okay?_

"Yeah, babe. We're fine," he answered, glancing over his shoulder at their children.

_Look, I'm going to try to come home, but I don't know how long it'll take. There's so much happening…_

"I know, Liv. Don't you dare rush. If you have to, stay at the crib tonight. Okay?" he questioned, jamming one hand into his pocket.

_Okay, El. Tell the kids I love them, and I love you._

"Love you too, Liv. Please be careful," he murmured, sighing as they both hung up the phone.

EOEOEOEOEOEOEOEOEOEOEOEOEOEOEOEOEOEOEO

Later that night, after laying his daughter in her crib, Elliot walked into his son's room and kneeled beside him at the edge of his bed. They both bowed their heads, and Elliot listened as his son began to pray softly.

"Dear God, please bless my Mama and my Daddy, Sammy, Uncle Munch and Uncle Fin, and Grandpa Don. And please bless the people who were in the trade center. Amen." By the time he finished, tears were rolling down his cheeks, and tears were in Elliot's eyes. He climbed up onto the bed and under the covers, and as Elliot kissed his forehead, he looked up at his father and said, "Daddy, why did the buildings get blowed up?"

The same lump that had been in his chest all day rose again, and he stuttered, "Son, I don't know. I really don't know." The young boy didn't look satisfied, but Elliot hugged him and said, "Good night, Luke. I love you."

"Love you too, Daddy," he whispered, already half asleep. Chuckling, Elliot kissed his forehead again and walked out of the room.

_That night at my son's side, he cried and prayed _

_For the ones who died in the World Trade _

_His palms to God, seeds and qualms with God _

_He just kept on pressin' me, wanna know why _

_Then one week later our bombs were dropped _

_We seein' them on CNN, they just won't stop _

_The infrared images of brutal attack_

_He said, "Daddy now we killin' em back, right?"_

_Why? I really wish I could explain it, baby _

_Why? It's just the world is kinda crazy, baby _

_Why? Ain't no pretty way to paint it, baby _

_Why? Don't cry, dry your eyes_

He was half asleep when he felt the bed dip down, and he smiled as a pair of familiar arms snaked around his waist. "You awake, baby?" she whispered, brushing her lips along his neck. He rolled over and pulled her into his arms, tenderly kissing her lips. She started to straddle him, but he grabbed her by the waist and pulled her back down into his arms.

"El, what's wrong?" she asked worriedly, and he sighed and tightened his arms around her.

_Why? I really wish I could explain it, baby _

_Why? It's just the world is kinda crazy, baby _

_Why? Ain't no pretty way to paint it, baby _

_Why? Don't cry, dry your eyes_

_Mmm, souls are captured _

_Dreams are stolen, hearts are broken _

_Evil blatantly rewarded _

_Hate surrenders, love exalted _

_Hope elated _

_Negativity is shorted_

"I was just so worried about you, Liv," he admitted softly, and she closed her eyes and rested her head in the crook of his neck. "I don't know what I would've done if I had lost you today."

"El, you're not going to lose me," she stated firmly, pulling him tightly against her. "Not now, not ever."

"I just love you so much, Olivia."

"I know you do, El. I love you too." She smiled as he slowly rolled over on top of her, and she wrapped her arms around his neck and held him close.

_Eyes to God, why is the bomb always getting the last word?  
And why did her uncle have to molest her?  
And why did all them cops have to be shootin' to kill?  
And why did all them priests have to act so ill?  
Tell me why did James Byrd Jr. have to be touched?  
Tell me why did Malcolm and Martin depart from us?  
Tell me why did that sniper make the little boy shoot?  
And why does human life always denied for loot?  
Tell me why did Mandela have to live in a cage?  
Why did my brother Sterling have to die at that age?  
Tell me why did Reginald Denny deserve his fate?  
And why can't love seem to defeat hate?  
Tell me why is it so hard for all the children to eat?  
Why did Pac & Biggie Smalls have to fall in the street?  
Tell me why did Jam Master Jay have to go that way?  
Please, what am I supposed to say to my kids when they say_

_Why? I really wish I could explain it, baby _

_Why? It's just the world is kinda crazy, baby _

_Why? Ain't no pretty way to paint it, baby _

_Why? Don't cry, dry your eyes_

_Why? I really wish I could explain it, baby _

_Why? It's just the world is kinda crazy, baby _

_Why? Ain't no pretty way to paint it, baby _

_Why? Don't cry, dry your eyes_

As he held Olivia while she slept, he couldn't help but think of all the questions his son had asked him, and all of his own questions that he wanted answers to. Finally he carefully detangled himself from his sleeping wife's arms and climbed out of the bed, then padded down the hall into his sleeping son's room.

Standing in the doorway of Luke's room, watching him sleep a peaceful sleep, undisturbed by the horrors of life, Elliot played the questions over and over in his mind.

_"Daddy, were there people in that building?"_

_"Are we killing them back?"_

_"Why are they shooting at us?"_

_"Why are we shooting at them?"_

Swiping at his eyes, he leaned against the doorframe and said, "I don't know why all of this is happening, Luke. I wish I could find a way to explain it to you, but I just don't know how. But at least I can protect you and your sister, and your mom. And I guess that's good enough for me. It'll be up to you, when you get older, to make everyone believe. You'll have to be the light to lead them, and make them believe that there's something bigger than all of them." He sighed, then crossed the floor and kissed his son's forehead.

"I know you can do it," he whispered, gently touching Luke's cheek. "I believe it with all my heart." Then he walked back out of the room and into his daughter's nursery.

Padding across the carpeted floor, he stopped in front of her crib and watched her sleep, her tiny chest rising and falling slowly in the pale moonlight. Gently, he ran his thumb across her cheek, then kissed her tiny forehead, taking care not to disturb her innocent slumber. With a smile, he slipped back out of her nursery and into his own room.

_Can't explain it, baby, life is just really crazy _

_I mean if it's world wars or the life of a little baby _

_We got more stores than they got rice under Buddha lazy _

_You live four scores and still it be driving you crazy _

_But for me I try to see the bright side _

_Sometimes it'd be like the goodness be tryin' to hide _

_Then try to flee, but it can't, it's deep inside _

_Sweetie, you be the light for the others _

_Make 'em believe in God_

Climbing up into the big bed, he smiled as he took Olivia's sleeping form into his arms and held her lovingly.

"Love you, Liv," he whispered, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead, then nuzzling his face into her neck. She stirred a little, but slept on, and he closed his own eyes and faded off into sleep.

_Mmm, souls are captured _

_Dreams are stolen, hearts are broken _

_Evil blatantly rewarded _

_Hate surrenders, love exalted _

_Hope elated _

_Negativity is shorted_

The End

A/N: So, what did ya'll think? I was pretty nervous, but I think I captured the spirits of the characters well. Here's to another fifty stories, and to ya'll for keeping me going. Thanks!


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